


recipe

by buttpatrol



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study??, Gen, I am pretty sure Kiss Processor was joked about pre TM as a TM name so I nabbed it, Pre-Canon, Secret Samol, Slightly mobile unfriendly, slightly illustrated!!, warning for spine spider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:19:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttpatrol/pseuds/buttpatrol
Summary: For the prompt Even Gardener growing vegetables/making fattoush, for Zeekubeast. Lettuce is grown, and Even makes plans for the future. Happy Secret Samol.





	recipe

**Author's Note:**

> There is a tree that grows in the oldest and most central module of the Ever-Forward. It has rough, dark bark and silvery leaves that catch the light. It’s branches twist upward towards the false sunlight and its trunk is so wide that you can’t wrap your arms around half of it, though every school child who visits the site inevitably tries.  
> There are many different theories as to where the tree came from; a sprout wrapped in damp cloth carried gently in the pocket of a traveler, a seed caught on a solar wind. Or maybe it came from the heart of Potency themself, summoned by that same strange magic that let them breathe life into barren inhospitable planets, once.  
> What we do know is this: The tree is impossibly old. Core samples taken by scientists estimate that it’s lifespan might be more than 40,000 years. When Kamala Cadent stood at the center of the Divines, of the machines and people, and preached perfect harmony and balance, the tree was already old. It outlived her. Eventually, it came to even outlive Potency, as you know. It watched the rise and fall of Divines and it could yet see the end of the fleet.  
> So, when they look at you, these people from Séance, from Harmony, from Memorious, with disapproval in their eyes and censure in their mouths, remember, some things are worth protecting. The Ever-Forward is not just a city or a ship, but an arc. A lifeboat. We bear not only responsibility for ourselves, but the weight of all flora and fauna we carry with us. We must survive our own times into the gardens of our future.  
> To this end, we bear arms. We build a standing army, in a peaceful Utopia. For ourselves. For the protection of our past and the sustainability of our future.  
> The Living Library of Memorious // VOLUME 113  
> VESSELS: CITY-SHIPS: DIVINE FLEET: The Ever-Forward

Even Gardener stirs a teaspoon of pomegranate molasses into black tea, and tries very hard to ignore the envelope on his table. He knows exactly what it contains. Glossy pamphlets, with smiling grey-haired people waving at him, while an animated ocean softly crashes behind them. YOUR FUTURE AND YOU or something similar, gently prodding him to consider how he would like wind down his career while suggesting hobbies like hiking, kayaking, community engagement, or expanding your garden.

Outside, the mirage glows gold and pink with plumes of a deep wine purple running through it.   The sky is full with the other spheres of the Ever-Forward lit up with the halogen lights of towns and the sodium lights of greenhouses, and in the middle, Potency, a matte grey shadow, dead now. You could even see the By-and-By, and Thyrsus, distantly twinkling like stars, the bloated outline of Gumption as it puttered across the sky. 

It won’t be long now till their little convoy of city ships will reach the next star system. A few weeks maybe. There is a habitable planet there, and so the Ever-Foreword services as terraformers will not be needed.

Its been over a year since Even Gardener was last planet-side. 

He looks at the envelope.

It’s possible he never will be again. 

As he sits by the window drinking his tea, the thought will come to fill him with such quiet terror, that to look out at the sky any more feels like a hardship. 

Instead he looks down. At his own house, at his own meagre garden surrounded by walls. His time as a soldier meant that he could never commit to high maintenance plants, opting instead for a meagre collection of succulents. If filling his days with little hobbies was to be the  _ rest of his life _ then growing his own food seemed liked the least offensive way to while away the days.

In a junk drawer, he finds a dusty seed packet with the word  _ Lactuca sativa L. var. Garden _ _ ensis  _ written on in in faint messy cursive. Some kind of lettuce then?  No best-by date on them so hopefully they would still germinate.

Next is the easy part. The part that every kid on the Ever-Forward knows. Good soil, a well draining pot, water, and a place in the sun.

And time, Even thinks to himself as he sits down again, sipping his now cold tea. Time and patience.

[](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSkmnoBU8AATS9t.jpg)

In the middle of the room was a terrarium, covered in cloth.

“Symbiosis?” 

“ _ Synthesis _ ,” Kiss Processor beams. They are freckled with dark curly hair and a too-tall body which tries to excuse itself with bad posture,  “It seems to be able to alter the molecular structure of inorganic compounds to somehow be more compatible with organic lifeforms. It’s  _ wild. _ You should have seen this remarkable rock-turtle lifeform they found in the same valley.It was awesome.”

A small spidery creature sat on a pile of mulch. It didn’t look much different than something Even might find in his yard to be honest,  _ except _ , --

Except it seemed to be looking at him expectantly, its multifaceted eyes wet, and dark, and waiting.

He did not even realize that he had reached out to touch it until Kiss swats his hand away. 

“No,  _ bad _ , we have no idea how it will react with human biology.” They squinted into the glass tank suspiciously.“I am pretty sure it ate a pen I dropped in there yesterday. We are kind of playing fast and loose here, I think command is hoping that it might be useful on Quire”

Even looks up from the creature with a start. “Since when do we have anything to do with Quire?”

Kiss leans in conspiratorially. “This is on the down low but… there have been people from Séance here.  _ Important  _ people, y’know? Empyrean is considering colonization.”

Even winced internally, hands balling into fists and then relaxing again. It was the thing that everyone knew, but no one talked about. Harmony, Curiosity, Belgard, Memorious, Anticipation,  _ Potency.  _ Their civilization was standing on a precipice, and if Empyrean was considering colonizing an already inhabited planet—

“What about their whole ‘Never perch where there is already a bird’ deal on Séance?” Even whispered back.

Kiss shrugged, “There is talk of a loophole, but who knows. You know the saying about desperate times. Listen,  _ that’s not the important bit _ . I know they are pushing you to adapt to civilian life  _ but  _ they are going to need someone to lead the expedition for Quire. They are not going to need . Maybe not even soldiers if we are lucky. But the are going to need risk takers. The metaphorical equivalent of extending a hand to an unknown magic science bug as it were”

Even breathes deeply. Imagines leaving the sterile complexity of the fleet for a frontier again.  Trading controlled climates and mesh-assisted comforts for the indifference of rock, and earth, and grass. A planet where there could be  _ anything  _ waiting for him.

“You don’t have to answer now,” Kiss says, pushing a datapad into Even’s hands, “ _ But _ ... Pitch me a team for this expedition, and outline what supplies and mechs you will need, and I will see what I can do.” 

[](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSktPBbW0AIRBmH.jpg)

Even Gardener sits in his kitchen, surrounded by data displays. Outside the sodium lights are just beginning to cycle to their daytime brightness. 

The first choice was the easiest one. They were going to need a neutral party to document their expedition and send reports back to the fleet. Knowledge of Quire was incomplete, but it was undoubtedly already inhabited by intelligent species. Probably humans, given their own predilection as a lifeform to spread over the galaxy like invasive weeds, but there was also the possibility of sapient peoples native to the planet as well. 

Diplomacy could be a can of worms. They would essentially be showing up on Quire’s doorstep, bags hand, asking if they could turn the planet into their Plan B. A safeguard against their own culture’s decline. Transparency and accountability were the watch words here. 

Most of the candidates Kiss had suggested had some sort of business background. A few low-level politicians, and erstwhile ethics students. 

Gig Kep-Heart however, had sent no resume or list of accolades, but instead, a short demo reel.  

The camera wobbles forward a bit before swinging around to reveal a stray dog of of man with messy hair, and a million-kilowatt smile.  The camera follows him as he joins a salvage crew on the Gambit, on a safety inspection tour. The workers start off cagey and nervous, but somehow by the end of 8 minutes of footage the workers are not only confiding in him about how they think protocols could be improved, but have also invited him out for drinks. Possibly the foreman has slipped Gig their number but the camera swings away too fast to be sure. 

_ Good at meeting new people,  _ Even writes down in a notebook. 

 

[](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSktPP8W0AAVxJ4.jpg)

A nutrient rich shower is scheduled for the afternoon block, and Even makes sure to place his little lettuce plant on the outside window so it could enjoy a bit of rain. 

Today was the monthly day that the Divine fleet allotted for open communication between the various city ships and Even had a lot of work to do.

The communications centre is crowded when he gets there and he has to wait in line for a terminal. There is already a message waiting for him when logs on from his mother, who was currently on sabbatical on Seance

She had included a candid picture of herself that his cousin had snapped. She was stern faced, wreathed in blue and black fabric. His cousin had ditched the utilitarian fashions of the Ever-Forward for the more eclectic style of séance and had stuck out xer tongue for the camera.

He wrote her a short message back, thanking her for the recipe and telling he was well.

The next order of business was to price out what a mech for the expedition would cost. He tried to make his post as vague as to purpose of the mech, to give himself plausible deniability that this was for a planetary mission but he supposed that people would know the fleet’s plans for Quire soon enough anyway.

The last thing was the next member of his team. Someone to scout ahead and help defend the group if it came do that. This time the prospective candidate was reaching out to  _ him. _ Or their case worker was at least. 

There were a few seconds of lag before the connection to the Tides of Harmony flared to life. 

“Hello, Mr. Gardener?”

“Even is fine.” 

“Even then. Listen there has been rumours that the are looking for people to explore a planet? I would like to put forward my client as a suitable candidate. I’m forwarding a basic profile of them to you now.”

“Echo Reverie?” Even asks, opening the file.

“Yes”

It was a mug shot, but it was a  _ good  _ mug show. Echo had serious eyes and  _ very _ good hair.

“They have, uh, quite the rap sheet.”

“Yes,” the caseworker gives a half shrug, “They are not compatible with the local mesh. A small minority isnt, you know? More all the time. But we don’t really have the infrastructure to integrate them into society so they get pushed to the edges. And sometimes they push back.”

“But, there is no mesh on Quire,” Even nods to himself, “At least not yet.”

“Right! Look, they are a good sort. And athletically talented as hell. It would be a shame to send them to Contrition’s Figure”

“They just can’t stay here?” Even asks.

“You got it.”

 

[](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSktPP8W0AAVxJ4.jpg)

He wakes up with the taste of copper in his mouth again. He checks, and he is not bleeding, and the surgery was  _ on his spine,  _ so it really doesn’t  _ make sense,  _ this taste of metal and bile. He dry swallows an antibiotic and brushes his teeth. 

It twitches, stretches there somewhere between his third and fourth vertebrae, like it is also waking up, before curling back up. They are calling it an omni-tool, but he just thinks of it as The Bug. 

He hasn’t accidently synthesized with anything  _ yet,  _ but if he sits very quietly he things he can feel the mechanical parts that keep the Ever-Forward going, spinning, tilting and breathing beneath him.

A notification pops up on the screen in the kitchen. There is a message for him at the communication center, which is  _ weird,  _ because the city ships are not scheduled to align for transmissions for another week 

“Its an urgent call from Memorious,” a short ginger technician tells him when he gets there, directing him to an elevator, “Bouncing the signal off the Moths is normally reserved for emergencies, or like, so the Excerpts can contact each other. Someone  _ really  _ must have thrown their weight around.”

The elevator took them the roof, to where a console was jury-rigged to what looked like a large antenna. A large receiver was beeping expectantly. 

Even picked the receiver up, “Hello?”  

“Hey.” 

The technician mouthed  _ five minutes,  _ and Even nods in silent affirmation, “You had an urgent message for me?”

“Yeah,” the voice on the other end pauses before continuing, “I’ve designed your mech.”

Even closes his eyes, it’s too early in the morning for this, “I was still shopping around actually, and I--”

“That’s not necessary, I’m the best,” the voice says, and the worst part is that they don’t even sound cocky, just infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “You’re are going to down to Quire right? The news keeps talking about how the Fleet is stopping there, and your specifications… You  _ obviously  _ need a mech that will work on a planet.  _ I mean who specifies treads on a mech anymore _ ?”

Even shifts his weight, and makes the mistake of leaning on the base of the antenna, and The Bug _jolts_ and there is a brief and nauseating sensation of being able to feel his voice being electronically carried as a signal on the amplitudes differences of a wave function, rising and falling like wingbeats.

“I need to get off Memorious. The Divine fleet is great and all, but it  _ is stifling,  _ I need new vistas, new experiences. The mass of people lead lives of quiet desperation, and all that. You can have the mech design, look I will send it now, I don’t need commission for it, just  _ take me with you.” _

A loud mechanical printer roars to life and begins to issue a stream of diagrams and blueprints, and Even is  _ about  _ to say  _ no _ , when he sees it.  Deceptively humble but with a feline grace, and incredible versatility. It's only a 2D drawing, and yet it evokes its purpose as machine designed to face the unknown terrain of an alien world. Even can already picture himself sitting the cockpit, under some foreign sky, looking for a places the peoples of the Fleet could call home.

He gives a short, resigned sigh, “what did you say your name was?” 

[](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DSktPztWAAAFXL_.jpg)

The Divine Fleet grows smaller behind them. The Ever-Forward is just a set of glassy baubles hung against the pale yellows, and soft cornflower blues of the mirage behind it.

Echo Reverie, slouches in their seat, a picture of quiet intensity and anticipation as they look out the window.

Grand Magnificent, a peculiar vision with a fresh haircut and aesthetically pre-distressed jacket, fusses with his pack for about the third time since they took off.  

Gig sits down beside Even. Even offers some of his fattoush. It had turn out pretty well all things considered.

“Nah, I can’t eat,” Gig grinned, “I’m too excited. Y’know I have never really seen rocks before. Like  _ obviously  _ they exist, but what would we even do with them on the Gambit? And big bodies of water. And Sky. I hope I  _ like  _ the sky. I  _ imagine  _ it’s a lot like looking at the mirage but, like, only above you instead just kind of everywhere. And grass! I think I have only seen like six plants in person in my life. And most of them were food. Man, I hope I like plants”

Even laughs, thinking about his poor delicious lettuce plant. His second career as a farmer was going to have to wait, “I hope you like plants too.”

There is a planet out there, in the dark space where the mirage hasn't touched yet. Grass and rocks and seas and skies. A planet where there could be  _ anything  _ waiting for them.


End file.
